unspeakable poems, i.

we were feathers fused to bone

vaguery you had called poetry

it is these vague words that save me

were i to go insane
would i write more
would i think more
in the space between
the wax of my memory
and the heat of inquiry

did it really happen that way?

two people in a room.
an event occurs:
i slash at the air
and your wrists start to bleed
i slash at myself
and you hold me closer

let me speak plainly:
were it only for a vast stretch of bed
that needed to be filled by my body
besides yours,
i could have stayed forever to fill that space
that emptiness inside each of us
(respectively, of course).

i wake early
you draw me to you
i am drawn
stark stick figure

filtered pre-dawn
the moon is a cheshire smile
and i am unmade.


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